"Lots of 'em; right on that table over there."
Riley plunged into the heap eagerly; Hopkins, with Father Augustine's books dragging him down on one side, came up in the midst of his friend's labors.
"What's them?" asked he.
"Pictures of people--old-fashioned ones. I might find one like them on Father Augustine's walls."
"That's so! It's good you thought of that." Hopkins dropped the parcel and watched the search, anxiously. "It might be here, all right."
Riley burrowed deeply into the heap of prints; a half-hour passed, and his face began to grow long; but suddenly, with a gurgle of joy, he snatched at a picture of a man in a starched ruff.
"Is it him?" breathed Hopkins.
"It's him--sure." Riley feasted his eyes delightedly upon the portrait. "This is just the same as the one by the door--only littler. We got that Martin done up this time, for we got the three wise men all right."
He drew out his paper and pencil; and with those important articles held